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Click hereIt took me the rest of the evening and much of the night to hitchhike my way back to my tourist hotel in Milan. Luckily Italian men are raunchy, ever on the make, and many of them make no bones about who they are boning--female or male. I was taken in a missionary in the hay on the back of one man's truck to move a good bit of the way toward Milan, and I sat in the lap of an older, obviously rich man, in a sleek Mercedes sedan in a grove of trees at the edge of the lights from Milan, stripped down and facing him, and rode his cock.
He--Gasparo--drove me all the way back to my hotel in Milan, waited for me to gather my stuff and settle my bill, and then drove me to his own luxurious flat near the art museum, where he was a curator as well, I gathered, as some sort of hereditary Italian nobleman. It was a good exchange. He helped complete my art tour of Italy in exchange for room and board and frequent fucks for two weeks. He was elderly and we had to work a bit to get him hard enough for me to ride him, but he was good-natured and very grateful to have a young blond American to himself for a couple of weeks.
Had the loose-sex Lake Como weekend scared me off of casual sex? I certainly couldn't say that it had. Whenever I needed help to get hard for a stranger who was going to cover me, all I had to do was to think back on the events of that weekend.
- COMMENTS
MarcLuciFer10 months agoAnother one of your hot Euro stories. Or perhaps I should say hot up until that filming of what was most certainly a snuff movie. That was a lucky escape, at least for one of you. This turned out to be literally "a party to die for".
